


Ashes To Ashes

by TXTrojan



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout: New Vegas, Macbeth - Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TXTrojan/pseuds/TXTrojan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the post-apocalyptic remains of Vancouver, Ashes to Ashes epitomizes the struggle of personal ambition against the lifelong loyalties of friends, family, and faction. Follow the tragic story of Janus in this Macbeth typology set in the unforgiving and unforgettable backdrop of the Fallout world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Ya, so I'm new to the archive. I have a lot of experience writing in the past, mainly on www.nationstates.net, but this character-based writing is new to me.
> 
> Because of this, I would greatly appreciate any sort of feedback you guys have. 
> 
> Good hunting,  
> TXTrojan

CHAPTER I

The sun was rising over the distant horizon when the patrol finally reached it's destination. The darkened, broken hulks of the metropolis' skyscrapers was silhouetted against it, casting an ominous shadow over the frozen streets of the city, in which the contingent of men sulked. They moved as a unit, methodically, almost robotically, checking each other's corners as they neared the enemy camp. They kept close to the grey concrete walls of the buildings, which themselves were in an essence apocalyptic, with bullet hulls, blood stains, and meaningless tribal graffiti covering every inch of them. It was depressing, but for Janus the urban ruins of The Van, and more specifically the island town of Stanley, were also home. A home that had recently come under threat by a group of raiders from the north, called the Blazers. Named for their obsession with energy weapons and fire, the Blazers were the largest threat faced by the Stans in the latter part of the 22nd century. But today, that was going to change.

"Hold up," Janus instructed, and his men obeyed, keeping their eyes peeled and their rifles at the ready. 

"What is it, Janus?" Jacob's co-commander, Strabo, asked as he slowly crouch-walked towards his lifelong friend. Janus had taken out his binoculars and was peering past the edge of the building and into the adjacent street that ran perpendicular to the one his men were lined up in. "Dozen guards," he said. "Looks like a patrol. Laser pistols, couple Recharger rifles plus a Flamer." The Blazers were obviously expecting an attack from the Stans, and had heightened up patrols in their captured sections of The Van. 

"Shouldn't be a problem," Strabo said, taking a step forward into the street only to be pulled back by Janus. "They won't," he corrected, "but the noise we will create will attract every Blazer from here to the waterfront." 

Strabo sighed. "You have a point. So what's the plan?"

He pointed to the manhole five feet behind him. 

"You can't be serious..."

Janus waved him off. "Don't worry; you won't be going in the sewers, I will. I'll take a fourth of our number with me, and try and sneak past. You keep the rest of the men here, and distract that patrol. With any luck they'll call for reinforcements, leaving the Stadium open for assault."

The abandoned hockey stadium in the city was the Blazers' main base of operations, converted from a ruin to a massive fortress of concrete and rebar. It was an easily defensible position, with only four natural entrances - three of which had been blocked off by the Blazers when they had first inhabited the building in the spring of the last year. 

"So...we're the bait?" Strabo asked.

"No. Your the distraction."

"Yes, exactly. The bait."

"Wanna switch jobs?" Janus asked. "If the freezing, molerat-filled sewers of The Van appeal to you..."

"Alright, alright," Strabo said, conceding defeat. "But I keep the minigun, and the snipers."

"Agreed," Janus replied, nodding to some of his men, who joined Strabo's contingent. That left a bit left than two dozen in Janus' company. "It's not like sniper rifles are great for sewer use anyway." 

"Give us ten minutes in the sewers before you start your shit, alright? Ten minutes."

"Okay, ten minutes. Good luck, Janus."

Janus slid off the cover and climbed down the rusted ladder, landing with a splash in the freezing water below, which came up to his ankles. Goosebumps immediately popped up all over his skin, and he shivered as he exhaled, watching his breath in the frozen subterranean air. He shuffled forwards to make room for the rest of his men, blowing air into his hands as he tried to warm them. He had a pair of cut out socks on his forearms that came down to his hands, and while it helped keep his arms warm it did absolutely nothing to comfort his frostbitten fingers.

"Cold as hell down here," Janus noted to his men, stating the obvious. He checked his Pip-Boy, and the thermometer read a chilling -15 degrees Fahrenheit. Janus whistled, partly in shock, partly in acceptance. That was damn cold, even for The 'Van. He turned on his Pip-Boy light, and slung his carbine, favoring instead his .45 pistol, on which he attached a suppresser. His carbine was a pre-war weapon he had found in the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, a semi-automatic, scoped one that took 5.56 mm ammunition. He had found it packed quite a punch, and what it lacked in rate of fire it made up for in accuracy and sheer stopping power. His .45 was less of a rare find, and wasn't in the best of condition, but it worked.

Janus led the way in the sewers, his pip-boy light illuminating their path. His Pip-Boy was uploaded with maps of The Van, including it's sewers, by default, and for that he was thankful. The wrist-worn Personal Information Processor had more than made up for it's price in caps since he had bought it a few years back from a Seattle merchant, and the maps of the British Colombia/Oregon area had proven extremely helpful. These sewers were like a labyrinth. It was relatively silent save the splash of their boots in the water and the dripping condensation from the ceiling. Or so, he thought. A rumble shook the tunnels, and Janus immediately looked upwards, and listened.

The faint cracks of gunfire, mixed with the sounds of energy weapons discharging. "We've got to hurry," he instructed his men. "Strabo has begun his attack."

The men double timed it, relying on Janus' Pip-Boy for guidance. No one questioned if he knew the way - they were too loyal for that. He had grown up by these guys, and all of them were essentially blood brothers. They would have followed him anywhere and everywhere. Though part of it was probably that he had the map.

Janus was running now, and could feel himself wearing out in the cold, damp, sewers. Running underground, where the air was humid and chilled, it almost hurt to breath. It was extremely tiring, almost to the point of exhaustion - 

The pain shot through his leg, and he cursed as he fell to one knee in the water. A gunshot rang out a moment later, than another, blowing the head off the mutated insect. "Fucking hell," he cursed, shaking his leg, trying to get the pain go away. Radroach bites weren't particularly fatal, but the diseases they carried and the high possibility of infection made them a serious problem. When this was over, he would have to see the town's doctor right away. Furthermore, the bite was in his ankle; the cold water lapsing on it made it sting even more, and we began jogging with a slight limp as the foot began to go numb.

"Here it is," he said, double-checking his Pip-Boy and pointing to the ladder up ahead. He took hold of the cold, rusted metal bars first, testing their strength, before hauling himself up. "One at a time," he ordered. "We don;t know how strong these are."

He climbed the ladder two rungs at a time, in a hurry to get off just in case it did decide to give out. Reaching the top he carefully removed the pothole's cover, sticking just his head out into the street, and gazed around. There was an abandoned Nuka Cola truck between him and the Stadium, thank god. Perfect for hiding his men as they got out of the manhole. One by one, the two-dozen followers climbed out, each assisted by the one before him. "Okay," he said. "This is it. We get in there, and we kill every last one of those bitches."

Janus peeped his head around the corner of the Nuka Cola truck. Ahead, six guards armed with laser rifles stood watch over the main entrance, which was a mosaic of wasteland materials adorned with spikes, heads on stakes, barrels of fire, and a rather inginuitive gate system. Janus motioned for half of his men to go right and told the rest to follow him. He sprinted into the open before sliding into cover behind some pulverized concrete and rebar, unslinging his carbine and sighting in. His target wore a metal motorcycle helmet, and so he loaded an armor-piercing round at the top of his clip before sighting in again, holding his breath, and pulling the trigger. 

A sharp crack echoed through the street and Janus watched with satisfaction as his target flew backwards. His bullet had missed his original target, and instead of piercing the helmet the round had tore into his chest, but the result was all the same. His target dropped to the ground, landing in a pool of his own blood. The other guards unslung their weapons and began looking for the culprit - to which a hailstorm of lead from Janus' compatriots answered their quest.

The enemy guards attempted to flee, but their friends inside of the Stadium had already shut the massive metal gate. Instead they simply dropped their weapons and ran. The ramparts surrounding the entrance came alive with angry Blazers as they tried to defend their fortress. It was a battle of lasers versus lead, and the gun-trotting Stans had the edge. The accurate marksmen, armed with trail carbines and brush guns, fired round after round into the enemy, covering the advance of the main force, which was armed mainly with shotguns and SMGs, for use in close range. 

"Get the C-4," Janus yelled over the gunfire, as he reloaded his carbine. One of his men slung a backpack full of plastic explosive towards the gate, and hit the detonator. The explosion knocked Janus off his feet and blew the air from his lungs. His ears rang like bells as he groaned in pain of being to close to the explosion. But the gate was gone - and thankfully, he was unhurt. Janus rolled over and was helped up by his men, just in time to see an adjoining wall of the fortification fall to the ground, trapping two Blazers underneath.

The Stans rushed through the debris of the once-impressive bastion, and into the stadium itself. Janus had never been inside the Stadium, and was rather shocked to see what the Blazers had done to the interior. Small huts had been created in the stands, surrounding a central tent that had the faded U.S. Air Force logo on all sides. In front of the tent a large truck lay, apparently refurbished by their owners. This had all been constructed within the grounds, within the safety of the Stadium's concrete shell which surrounded the village on all sides, including vertically. But no Blazers were to be found. "Keep your eyes peeled," he instructed. Janus approached the central tent, nervously fingering his carbine.

He threw open the tent's flap, and was not prepared for what he saw. A large computer processor lay in the center, surrounded by terminals and electronic equipment that looked military in nature and rather fragile. Electrical wiring covered the floor to the point where Janus had to watch his step to not trip over them. The gentle hum of two generators in the back of the tent, which was about 25 by 25 meters in size, gave the entire scene one of even more complexity and contributed greatly to the scientific feel it had.

Janus approached what he guessed was the central console, out of curiosity, and looked at the display. In bright blue pixelated letters, he read:

U.S. AIR FORCE - COMMISSARY AI PROTOTYPE "HOLIDAY"

PRESS ANY BUTTON TO BEGIN>>>

What the heck? He thought. He hesitated, then pressed the central key. He stepped back as the machine hummed with electricity. The generators in the back began whirling in protest to keep up with the demand for power. Sparks flew from somewhere in the right side of the room, and then the entire tent went dark. Only the blue computer screen was alight.

WELCOME, JANUS.

The underscore symbol was blinking, which Janus recognized as asking him to type. He was bewildered at how this computer could know his name, but even more curious.

HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?  
He typed, hesitated, and pressed Enter. He thought for a second the machine was broken when suddenly a reply appeared on the screen.

BECAUSE I KNOW EVERYTHING.

SUCH AS?  


SUCH AS THAT YOUR FREIND STRABO HAS BEEN VICTORIOUS. THE 'BLAZERS,' AS YOU CALL THEM, ARE IN RETREAT, AND SOON HE WILL COME HERE. SUCH AS THAT YOUR WIFE FEARS YOU ARE DEAD. SUCH AS THAT YOU WILL BE HAILED A HERO UPON YOU RETURN TO STANLEY PARK.

STANLEY...PARK? HOW DO YOU KNOW ALL THIS?  


I APOLOGIZE, THAT WAS THE ORIGINAL NAME OF THE ISLAND YOU NOW CALL "STANLEY," AND FROM WHERE YOUR TRIBAL NAME "STAN" DERIVES. AS FOR THE ORIGIN OF MY KNOWLEDGE...IN TIME I WILL TELL YOU. BUT RIGHT NOW I HAVE SOMETHING VERY IMPORTANT THAT I NEED YOU TO DO FOR ME.

WHY WOULD I HELP YOU?  


BECAUSE I CAN RETURN THE FAVOR. I WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE OREGON TERRITORY.

HOW?  


THE LOCATION OF A HIDDEN PRE-WAR BUNKER, SAFE FROM THE GREAT WAR, FILLED WITH TECHNOLOGY. A VAULT. THE ONLY VAULT IN VANCOUVER, VAULT 89. AND IT WILL ALL BE YOURS.

AND WHAT IS THE FAVOR?  


UPLOAD ME INTO YOUR PIPBOY, AND DESTROY THIS CONSOLE. AND HURRY. TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE, JANUS...


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER II

 

Janus took a step back, puzzled. His curiosity was getting the best of him, he realized. Or was it? The promises it made...Vault 89...technology...power. It couldn't hurt, could it? To find the Vault? He could make the Stans the most powerful tribe in The Van. They would venerate him. They would love him. They would follow him.

I WILL DO AS YOU ASK.

THAN PLUG YOUR PIPBOY INTO THE MACHINE.

He did as he was told, taking the USB coil and attaching it into the terminal. He looked at his Pip-Boy screen, which was shimmering with the influx of data. The massive terminal in the center of the room was literally shaking as it copied it's information onto his device, and sparks were flying from the generators. Janus feared for his own safety as the place seemed to destroy itself. But in a minute it was all over. He looked down at his Pip-Boy, which had switched colors from green to the same shade of light blue that had been on the computer screen. Interesting, he thought. 

"Hey, Janus, everything okay?" A voice came from outside. It was Strabo, definitely. "Seems you shook some shit up in there."

"Na, it's fine," he said. He considered telling Strabo about the computer, about the Vault, but decided against it. Instead, he did something he wasn't accustomed to. He lied. "The Blazers had some sort of recharge station in here, for their weapons," he said, "But I tried to use it and it pretty much self-destructed."

Strabo walked in to the tent, and whistled. "Holy shit, Janus. Remind me never to let you touch my stuff." 

He laughed, and turned to face his friend, walking out of the tent. Outside his men had assembled a pile of weapons and other valuables that they were going to take back to Stanley. A group of a dozen prisoners lay hog tied nearby, under guard by a quartet of heavily-armed Stans. His men were still looking for anything of use that they could bring back to Stanley. Janus considered destroying the stadium, but he doubted they had enough explosives, and those they did "Load up all the loot on that truck," he ordered, and his men immediately followed his command. "What did we get?"

"Twenty-three laser rifles," the self-proclaimed Quartermaster told him, "Ten plasma rifles, five Flamers, and almost fifty plasma and laser pistols. We also found a plasma caster and a box of grenades, as well as thousands of microfusion and energy cells, three full sets of combat armor...We haven't had a loot like this in ages, Janus. It's good. Very good."

"Imagine the look on the Provost's face when he sees this," Strabo said, shaking his head. The Provost was the official leader of Stanley. He had formed the community, led the community, and the sole executive of the community. He was nearly two-hundred years old, and had been around since before the Great War. The radiation that had killed so many others had actually saved him - though his skin and hair was peeling, and his voice coarse, the radiation had kept him alive for all this time. He had a name, Janus was sure, but he went by the Provost. "We'll be on his good side for sure."

The drive through back to Stanley was a long one, having to drive slow as so their escorts (on foot) could stay close. They weren't going to risk loosing all this gear that they had fought so hard to obtain to some opportunistic raiders waiting along the roads. When they did arrive at the causeway leading to Stanley, the two gatekeepers looked on in awe. Even Janus had to admit, hauling with them a truck full of captured weapons, surrounded by rifle-bearing troopers, they were an impressive sight. Stanley's main gate was built from scavenged metal, which was attached to a horizontal pulley system that could open and close the gate with ease. Around the entire length of the city's limits, cars had been piled up to from walls, and behind them wooden ramparts and scaffolds allowed for guards to walk it's length. The town itself was rather beautiful as compared to many wasteland towns. Stanley had originally been a wooded area just outside of downtown Vancouver, and they had used the trees to build log houses, which were fortified with scavenged metal. At the center of the city lay the Municipal House, a large three-story building that served as the head of Stanley's government, and in front of it the city square, were merchants commonly set up tents to barter.

As the truck rolled down the main road, and into the square, citizens of Stanley came out of their huts and cheered. Janus pulled the vehicle to a stop in front of the main square and opened the door, only to be surrounded by children as they rushed to greet him. He smiled and let them do their thing, looking into the forming crowd for the one person he wanted to see more than anyone. His eyes scanned the populace, before laying rest on a black-haired woman with a slightly freckled face. "Katrina!" He yelled over the noise. "Katrina, over here!"

He dispersed the children and ran to her, despite the pain in his ankle, just as she noticed his arrival. His wife sprinted to meet him, and she crashed into Janus' open arms, pressing herself against his chest. He embraced her and held her close, kissing her head before simply pressing his against hers. "I was so worried about you," she said, fighting back tears. "I thought...I thought you lost forever."

"I'm here, I'm here, he assured her, rocking Katrina in his arms. Only then did it occur to him that the computer had been correct. How did it know? he thought, still holding his wife close. How...is it possible?

"Now, now," a rough but compassionate voice said, from the direction of Municipal House. He turned to see the Provost walking towards him and his men. The Provost wore a faded, patchwork jumpsuit, with an assault rifle slung across his back and a decorative sword at his hip. An officer's cap from a country no longer in existence covered his balding head. "Janus. Strabo. I trust you were successful in you exploits?"

"Yes, sir." Janus replied. "We have attacked and destroyed the Blazer's base of operations. Any that were not killed are scattered, and will not present any more threats to Stanley. In addition we recovered hundreds of weapons and valuables from the Stadium to add to our arsenal."

"Our heroes, then, indeed," The Provost said. "Tonight," he said, his voice roaring across the square. "We will celebrate the victory. I believe a feast is in order!" Unanimous cheering rang through the city. It was to be a fantastic night indeed.

Later kinda

Janus' home was one he had built with his own hands. It was a two room home, with just a bedroom and a kitchen/dining area, but he was proud of it. The wood and metal structure kept them warm, comfortable, and secure. He couldn't have asked for anything more. "Promise me you will never go out like that again," Katrina told him, as she brought a bowl of warm stew. Janus was just in the process of taking his boot off his foot, and sighed in pain when it came off, revealing a nasty wound that had swollen considerably. "You know I can't promise that, babe. It's my job. I have to go out, to protect Stanley. To protect you," he said. Janus retrieved his knife from his pack, and brought his foot closer, cutting out a few black blisters that had formed after wearing his boots for a week straight.

"Yes, but...there has to be another way. Look what happened to you,"" she said, "You've probably contracted Chagas or something!"

He shivered at the thought. Chagas was a disease that attacked the host's mind, slowly eating away at their brains and muscles until they were so weak, frail, and in some cases insane that they usually succumbed to other diseases. It had evolved from an autoimmune disease that was present in society even before the Great War, but had mutated, according to most, because to the omnipresent radiation. It could be passed from host to victim in almost any way possible - sexually, from insect bites, coughing, and even from dirty water. 

"Well, I haven't gone crazy. Your probably safe."

"That's not my point," she corrected him. 

Janus sighed. "I guess I see where your coming from."

Her expression changed into one of sympathy as she walked over to the bed and sat down next to Janus, leaning up against him. "I know it's your life. But in marrying me, you made your life my life. I...I don't know what I'd do without you, Janus, and....I mean, it's just..." Janus interrupted her by planting a deep kiss on her lips, which she readily accepted, and adjusted her position to sit on his lap. Janus leaned back, and turned her over, kissing her neck as she fumbled with his belt and pants. Their hands fought eachother as they fumbled around bodies neither of them had felt in weeks but were so desperate to rediscover...

...two hours later, Janus awoke, naked, next to his wife. She had curled up around him, either for warmth, or for intimacy, or maybe both. Either way, when Janus looked at his Pip-Boy, which laid on the bedstand, the clock read 20:22. He had less than half an hour before he was supposed to be at the feast. He would have been perfectly content with staying home, with Katrina, but with the importance of the event, not to mention that it was being thrown in honor of him and Strabo's exploits, he felt like attendance was mandatory.

"Hey, honey." His wife said, stirred awake by her husband's movements. "Is it that time?"

"Yep," he said, cracking his back and moaning because of the relief it brought. He picked his reinforced leather clothes off the floor and smelled them. No, he couldn't go to the feast in that. Instead he put on a thermal shirt (his only spare), some black denim jeans, and because of the weather threw on a thick black longcoat over it all. He then affixed his beret (given to all members of Stanley's militia) and affixed his a leg holster for his .45 Auto. He wouldn't need it, but members of the militia were required to be armed at all times, just in case. 

Katrina picked one of her dresses, one that pre-war would have been semi-formal, but now it was, like all their clothes, patchwork. Nonetheless, Janus complimented her on their way out the door. "You look great, honey. Now c'mon, before they start a witch hunt for us or something."

She smiled and took his arm, and the two walked out into the torchlit streets, as music pervaded through the night. Already in the main square the town's populace was gathered, dancing, drinking, and eating as the stores were opened up and food spilled forth. He privately hoped the feast wouldn't be too taxing on their grain and food reserves - winter was bad enough, and the harvest hadn't been great in any sense of the word. But tonight, he reminded himself, wasn't about worrying for the future. It was about celebrating the past.

"Janus! My man," Strabo said, clearly already a bit woozy. "Come over here! Have a drink!"

"In a minute, Strabo, in a minute." Quickly his friend lost interest, and instead focused on one of the two beautiful ladies at his side, who were clearly even more tipsy than him. Knowing Strabo, Janus guessed he would take one - or both - home tonight. Katrina ran off to see her own friends, and Janus found himself awkwardly alone. He shifted around, enjoying the music, downing a beer, and was eating what had to be the greatest steak in his life when he was interrupted. "Mind if I sit?" The Provost said, and Janus nearly choked. "I...of course, sir."

"No need for formalities here, Janus," he replied, taking a seat and sighing at the relief. "I just wanted to say how thankful we all are. Stanley is safe once again, thanks to you."

"It's my duty, sir."

"No, no," he said. "It wasn't. You know damn well that an offensive against the Blazers was risky. Your job was to defend our borders, and instead you went above and beyond, taking out the threat at it's source. Not to mention that brilliant stunt you pulled, splitting your forces. That diversion...nothing short of genius. A Hannibal, I tell you!"

"Excuse me...a Hannibal?" Janus asked, confused.

"Oh, that's right," the Provost said. "Reminds me sometimes just how old I am, remembering history like that. Anyway, Hannibal was an ancient military commander. He almost conquered the most powerful nation in history...they couldn't match him on the battlefield. He destroyed every single army they sent against him. He was a tactical genius, but unfortunately also a strategic flounder."

"How so?"

"He never marched on the enemy capital. While he could defeat any army, he couldn't exploit his victories. In the end, war is a game of strategy, not tactics. And when he tried his hand in politics, he got the same result - unfortunately being betrayed by those closest to him. A tragic end to a great story. I've learned a lot in these years, Janus, and built Stanley from the ground up..."

"What are you getting at?" he said, intrigued and fairly sure were the conversation was headed.

"Janus, I've been in this game a long while. But it's time I pass the stick to someone else."

Janus' heart raced as the Provost continued. "Your a fantastic leader, Janus. And an even better commander. Your faithful to your cause, to the death, and as a military tactician second to none. I wanted to thank you for all these years, Janus, and wish you the best. I'm sure you will serve my successor with the same vigor and loyalty as you did me."

Janus heart skipped a beat. Wait...what?

"Tonight I will announce the new leader of Stanley," he said. "My son, Mason, will take my place at the head of the town. He is a capable leader, but with much to learn. I have no doubt he will do a wonderful job as Stanley's administrator."

The Provost put his hand on Janus' back and stood up. "It has been an honor, Janus, truly. Semper fi,"

"Do or die," he reiterated, from the militia's oath of allegiance. "I...don't know what to say, sir. Thanks for all these years." His head was spinning, out of control. Everything was suddenly a blur. He had honestly thought that the Provost would pass the torch to him...and now...emotions span. Anger. Frustration. Confusion...everything he could feel at once. He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at his plate. The steak he had thought was the best one ever now didn't appeal to him. He was simply too lost in his own mind to have an appetite. 

"Attention, attention, please," The Provost said, through a microphone, some time later. A small wooden stage and podium in front of the Municipal House had been set up for him, so that everyone in the square could see. "Today, we celebrate the defeat of our mortal enemies, the Blazers." 

The crowd went wild for a short minute, before the Provost held us his hand and all became silent once more. "But we also celebrate the men who made this happen. Without the efforts of our two fantastic military leaders, Strabo and Janus, none of this would have been possible. They have liberated this town of a great burden, and ended a great conflict, and I cannot express my thanks enough. To the Stanley Militia!" he said, holding up a glass of wine. He wouldn't drink it (it was impossible, with the deterioration of his organs), but the effect was all the same. 

The crowd exploded into cheers once more, and once again the Provost was forced to silence them. Janus looked on, expressionless and dispassionate about the whole ordeal.

"However I have another announcement to make," he said. "I've been alive for two hundred years, and built this town fifty years ago. But it is time, I believe, as every leader must do, to pass the torch, to let a younger generation and it's ideas take ahold of our city. My son, Mason, will be taking over control of Stanley. The transition will be slow, and it will take a few weeks before I let go fully, but as of tonight, I am stepping down from my position."

Silence.

"I realize this is a big change. I promise you, I will see to it that it goes as smooth as possible. You shouldn't notice any change in your daily lives; Mason is a good man, and he will be a fantastic leader, I'm sure." 

Mason came up onto the stage, and hugged his father. The crowd cheered, slowly, as they mimicked one another. Janus frowned, thinking. About the Pip-Boy. About the Computer. And most of all, about it's promise.

I WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE OREGON TERRITORY.


End file.
